


Smoke You Out

by Caidyn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Demonlock, F/M, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Freeform, M/M, Sex might happen later on, season five AU, superlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidyn/pseuds/Caidyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Times change but the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are in London, attempting to live their lives quietly as they always have through the years even if Lucifer is back. The Winchesters are on the hunt for their rings, knowing they have to do anything they can to get them. Alliances are formed while two sides scramble for the upper hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Tumblr user iboughtatrowel for betaing this!

The case wasn’t all that interesting. One killer, one body. Prints there. Dull. He had a feeling that Lestrade just gave this case to him so he’d be entertained and not have to come in to beg and plea for the next one he so desperately needed. Except, it wasn’t him who needed it. The man who really needed these cases was his partner who lived off the battlefield or he’d go mad in the end.

Sherlock huffed as he turned to his side on the couch, face close to the pillows. He was better with going to see his Homeless Network for a couple of hours to let his power bubble and boil to inflict that bit of damage that would last him a good few weeks. Famines were so easy to create in a city, as was war.

But, War had fought the urge to release his power. That was the point where they always had differed, even to that day. Sherlock just happened to be the one who had fix the man urges so he wouldn’t explode one day to create World War Three.

Twice that had happened, neither time being pretty for their lives.

There was a touch to his shoulder that sharply stole him from his musings that covered everything but the case, though he had figured it out by the time they left the scene the first time. Dragging it out was just one thing he did for love.

Still, his dislike showed by flashing black eyes he saved for John only. They soon faded to icy blue that penetrated anything. It was something he looked for in features, not to mention the black hair and pale skin. By far this body was his favorite yet.

He focused on in the face that had so many variations to it, but all alike with at least the blond hair. This time was scruffy with a clean shaven face and deep blue eyes that looked like the sea. He never got tired of looking in them.

“So what is it now? You know not to bother me when I’m thinking about things, especially when it’s about a case,” he lectured. “I swear, your tastes are getting harder to satisfy lately. And there is no way I’m going to let you go back to that God forsaken desert again. Two times you’ve made the same mistake of getting shot, once in that leg that I had to fix the second time around because you remembered that pain. Unless you take me with you, I don’t want to deal with that same mistake again and --”

“Sherlock, just listen.”

That little name he’d taken a long time ago-- he reused it body after body, going lengths to change his name to it even -- sounded so much better on John’s tongue.

“What am I listening for, John? I have other things to do.”

“Quiet. You’ll know when you hear it.”

They both fell silent.

What John described wasn’t something to be heard, but more to be _felt_. The feeling rippled through him and he looked at the man who seemed as wary as he was. Gently, Famine’s thin hand came up to take War’s to have something to hold on to while he felt a twinge of fear in his gut.

“Together,” he asked.

“Together.”

XXX

No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening.

She had been so _happy_ , so _pleased_ when Lucifer had gotten put in that cage. Now those boys had let him out. Molly had never wanted to be what she was. Killing people wasn’t enjoyable to her through those incurable things. Disease wasn’t a good way to go, but she had done it in those very early days when Lucifer had been free for that short time.

Of course the horsemen -- her included -- hadn’t gotten shoved away. Chaos was needed in the world by that point to keep the balance in it. They were kept. But, she had been kind, only letting loose a few times in history -- Black Plague and AIDs epidemic were a couple to be named -- never doing more than she had to.

Now, the persistent drumming noise -- it had _always_ been a drumming noise to her, one that never stopped -- was back. It gave her a headache the point of having to hold her head in her hands while those temples pounded along with the beat.

Molly took in a deep breath then looked up at the body on the metal table. The metal felt good against her forehead since it was always cool given that she spent most of her time in a morgue. She had set it there earlier to see if that did any good. She stood up slowly, using a shaking hand to help herself stand. The body seemed different. An unwanted gasp slipped out once she saw what she had done.

Pestilence -- an alter ego as she saw it -- had struck with boils all over the poor man. At least it was just in the morgue and to this body alone. As protocol, she went and picked up a mask and gloves, pulling the items carefully on. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the girl she was inside. This girl, Molly -- she had even kept her name along with stayed in touch with the family to be respectful -- had been so shy and nervous, something that she had immediately gone for.

Those boils spread across the waxy looking skin like butter spread across toast. Boils that seeped pus of some kind were there. Under the mask that covered her nose and mouth, her lips twitched from nerves. Might as well see what the damage was from Pestilence this time. Molly got a cotton swab as she picked up her recorder.

“2:47 in the afternoon,” she spoke into the device, voice high and wavering. “Boils have come across the body. I’m swabbing to see what it might be.”

A simple statement of her name ended that recording. She swabbed one of the boils that had the best amount of yellow liquid seeping from it with a rotting smell she fought through. It caused her head to pound harder than before with the booms speeding up to a jerky sound she didn’t like.

 _BOOM._  
She took off the gloves.  
 _BOOMBOOM._  
Off went the mask.  
 _ **BOOM. BOOMBOOM.**_  
Those fumbling fingers pulled out her mobile, dialing the number she knew by heart.

“Sherlock, c-can I come over? I think there’s something we need t-to talk about.”

XXX

The woman’s whole body shook as she sat in the darkness handcuffed to a chair. “Is someone out there? I can hear you walking around. Can you help me?” Her voice trembled, creating a warble of terror.

A light flipped on soon after, illuminating the room with harsh fluorescent bulbs. The place was a simple warehouse with a few boxes scattered around. Death’s footsteps echoed around as he came from the darkness.

“Now, can I help you?” he questioned, Irish accent light and airy. “I but... I don’t think I will. Daddy’s not done yet.”

He walked slowly, watching her struggle around in the chair. The dark curls -- just a dark brown, and not even black like he wanted -- bounce around her body. Sniffing in disdain, his shoulders hunched up to his ears and hands to his pockets to give that appearance of a child.

He paused in front of her, one hand reaching out to touch one of the curls. Not natural, burned feeling to it that he wasn’t fond of. It was even a reddish-brown. Jim -- what a dull and forgettable name one that would be swallowed up so easily -- moved his hand up to put his fingers on her chin, thumb lightly pulling at her lip.

How could Moran give him _this_? It wasn’t good enough to have an identity when he was through with that thing.

Without warning a scream ripped from the throat of the thing in front of him. Suddenly Jim was glad his tiger had beaten it some during the transport. The noise made him wince even as it reverberated off the walls and high ceiling. 

"Ahhh,” he mocked, taking a step closer so it had to squirm to get away from him. “Won’t help you to scream. You’re going to die no matter what. It’s what people _DO_.” 

His final words were its death sentence, bouncing from wall to wall. 

Sebastian materialized from the darkness to be at Jim’s side. That rough, scarred hand took Death’s smooth one from the mortal’s face. The dark eyes of the horseman turned to him, sparkling from the glee of getting to watch it die. He always liked it when they did that. 

“You said it was like _him_. But it’s _boring_ , Sebby,” he pouted. 

The blond’s eyes rolled, turning black to show fondness over Death. His free hand came up to cup his cheek and whisper, “I’ll take care of it.”

Moran let go of Jim to approach it. The light blue eyes of the thing stared of at him, fat tears rolling from them. Jim was briefly reminded of the sky when it had wisps of clouds in it by those eyes. Its head shook from side to side, the tears coming faster now. 

_He_ would never do that. The man, this creature, had been targeted for never, would cry. Jim was gleeful when Sebastian began, rocking from heel to toe once then bounced up and down. His tiger chose the slow way. Punishment was not like War’s little fuck toy. Death’s upper lip twitched over the sight that had been dealt to him so many years ago. 

“Oh, God! Please, _please_!” 

Sebby ended that plea with a solid punch to her jaw, causing a cracking noise to fill the room as its head whipped back. Jim giggled. Shouts and moans came with each blow. They were all of the same words: Stop please, and God. The pitch varied where the thing was hit; in the gut it was a loud moan, chest earned a high pitched shout, and when the facial blows happened it was something that could be described as a scream. 

Softer and softer those noises came until there were none at all, Moran’s hits still coming to fill the room with the dull thud of skin against skin. The battered thing was covered in red blood that gleamed so beautifully in the light. How could something so bewitching come from such a failure of a creature? 

Finally, Sebastian stopped and Death stepped forward, going towards the blond whose chest heaved from the exertion. Blood was splattered on his clothes and it coated his fists. They were going to find a change of clothes. Pity, he had liked the shirt on the man. Jim’s eyes swept over the dead animal; broken jaw, fractured ribs, split lip, eyes open and staring to the ceiling. Faintly, he wondered what the death blow was. He took his demon’s hand and brought it up to his mouth. 

“My tiger,” he whispered. 

His tongue darted out to lick at the blood. Metallic, but oh so good. The typically pouty lips closed around the calloused hand, sucking the blood off slowly and sweetly. Jim paused when he felt _it_. With a little pop, his mouth was off Moran’s hand to grin at the man who had one eyebrow raised in a silent inquiry. 

“He’s back.” 

Death wrapped his small hands around one of the demons. Slowly, one went from there to dab blood from the tied up thing, careful not to get any on his suit. He drew a red smiley face in the hollow of the man’s cheek with a toothy smile of his own coming through. 

XXX  
XXX

A flurry of wings brought Castiel into the motel room he knew the Winchesters were in. His he cocked to the side, seeing them curled up together. Sam was the “big spoon” -- a term that Dean gave him when the angel had asked about the position -- with his arms draped around the elder’s waist to draw him close. Brother laying with brother, something Castiel continued to grow used to with each occasion he saw them. In his eyes, they were friends with simple quirks to them, like any other person.

Dean’s green eyes opened, his body stirring on the bed as he focused on Cas. In the next moment, the man jumped and swore. “Cas,” he growled in a voice raspy from sleep, “I am _not_ having you go all Cullen on me. Creepy enough with you popping in and out of here when you want.”

Sam cracked his eyes open with a groan, elbowing Dean. “Shut up. ‘M trying to sleep.” Indignantly, Dean looked over his shoulder and Castiel watched them have a silent conversation. From his position, he saw the light brown eyes soften right before Dean’s head leaned in.

Cas looked away after that; one too many scoldings from the brothers ingrained that action into his mind.

A bit of throat clearing brought his head up to see the brothers simultaneously pulling on shirts and jeans over their boxers. “What’s going on, Cas?” Sam asked with a look that quirked up part of his face. “I’m sure it’s important if you turned up around…” a glance to the clock, “Six in the morning. We both know how Dean hates getting up early.”

Cas paused, frowning. Could humans truly be so forgetful? “I located the rings,” he slowly stated, “You told me to come to you when I found them.” From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Dean for some approval. Dean was too busy looking at Sam to notice him.

“I’ll call Bobby,” Sam softly said while Dean looked to Cas with a wide smile.

“That’s great, Cas,” the older Winchester added.

Within thirty minutes they had reached Bobby, Dean had ushered Castiel to sit awkwardly in a chair at the table, and had gotten out beers for all of them despite how early it was. “This better be good,” Bobby said from the meal box resting in the middle of the table.

Dean hunched over, arms on the table to speak in a regular voice. “Cas thinks he found the rings.” He toyed with the condensation gathering on the side of the bottle. “Didn’t say where they were, but I’m sure he’ll get to it.” For a moment Castiel considered interrupting to say that he had been getting to that but had been interrupted, himself.

“Good. So, where are they? We need to get goin’ after them before it’s too late.”

Cas leaned forward as well. “They’re in London,” he shouted, earning a wince from Sam and a look from Dean to tone it down. He did. “There’s been activity all over the city and it’s not hard to feel the strength concentrated there. I would go as far to say all four could be there. The records we have of the horsemen suggests they have a high likelihood of being somewhere in Europe.”

Bobby whistled lowly. Castiel easily pictured the old man taking off the baseball cap to run his fingers through his hair. “I guess you three are going to London,” he decided.

“I want this done, don’t get me wrong, but you need someone around here, Bobby,” Dean laughed, Cas recognizing it as a nervous one. “Me? Overseas? No, no. That wouldn’t work. You need at least one of us here to make sure nothing happens over here.”

“Dean--” Sam started but Dean stopped him with a glare. “He doesn’t like flying,” the younger explained when he saw the stark confusion on the angel’s face. “On airplanes. He just doesn’t like heights.”

“They’re metal death traps,” Dean exclaimed, unable to hold that little comment in.

“Well, there’s no way I’m helping you boys out with this,” Bobby sighed, sounding exhausted with these two. “Dean, either buck up or give up completely.”

Cas glanced around and caught Sam’s eye. One of those eyebrows went up along with a gesture for the angel to go ahead and talk. “I could easily get us there,” he slowly stated, “Without airplanes.”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows quirked up to give a look of told-you-so at Dean, while the other rolled his eyes with a grimace. “I guess we’re going to London,” he growled. Sam smiled as he stood, the smug look still on his face as he picked up the phone.

“We’ll call if anything comes up,” Sam said, hanging up. “Cas, mind helping me get a few things ready for us to leave?”

They were ready to go in about an hour, complete with Dean giving a sorrowful goodbye to the Impala. Cas took the bags first to leave in some back alley he found to be deserted with a quick scan of the area. He came back for the brothers and saw a comforting arm around Dean’s waist. “I can only take you one at a time,” he murmured, watching Sam remove himself from the hold.

The youngest stepped forward first. “I’ll go.” He gave Castiel one of those sheepish half smiles as he took those few more steps towards the angel. Cas closed the distance by grabbing the front of his shirt to tug him closer. He felt his eyes close while the world collapsed around them then reformed all over again. Letting go, he watched the tall man stumble backwards a few steps.

“There’s a motel next door. I suggest we go there.” Castiel then went back to Dean, seeing the man almost hyperventilating where he stood. Instead of grabbing the man like he had with Sam, he walked a bit closer, feeling rather cautious, as if Dean was a scared animal.

“Ready,” Dean gruffly said, opening his arms wide to signal that surrender of power. Castiel went forward to put an arm securely around his waist then took them off.

Upon landing, he felt Michael’s vessel leaning against him and was reminded just how simple it would be to bring Dean to Michael. The fighting would stop completely between his brothers. What bliss that would be. But, Cas let Dean go and glanced around.

At once, he stiffened, seeing the woman nervously picking at her nails about five feet away from them. It wasn’t a woman, not really; the face was distorted into a grotesque shape that he knew only a monster from Hell would have.

“You’re a Winchester,” she nervously said, picking at her sweater next. “And you’re Castiel, their angel.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Dean drawled, stepping forward as he drew himself up taller. In contrast, she shrunk. “The more important thing is; who are you?”

Castiel watched her twist the ring on her finger, a simple silver band. “I prefer the name Molly,” she whispered, visibly forcing herself to draw up further. “You would know me better as Pestilence. I-I want to help you put Lucifer back in his cage. I’ll help you no matter what the cost.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Castiel have a chat with Molly about what she might or might not know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [iboughtatrowel](http://iboughtatrowel.tumblr.com/) for her help with this!

“So, you’re Pestilence?”

Molly stared at Dean. Did he really expect her to prove it? To hurt people she wanted to help? That wasn’t how it worked for her. If she had it her way, she never would have been made by whatever power had done it. She doubted that God held the blame. “Yes, I’m Pestilence,” she said tiredly. It was the millionth time she’d answered this question. “I’d prefer to be called Molly. I just want to stop this from happening as much as you do. My brother has already started taking this as an advantage for killing.”

Sam reacted by picking up a chair to bring closer to hers, turning it around so the back was where his chest pointed. “What do you mean by brother? It’s the other horsemen, isn’t it? And you know where they are.” His calm brown eyes were focused on her, wide and doe-like with a battle hardened side hidden behind the innocence. Out of anyone she could trust, she trusted him the most.

“Ye-yes. I know where they are. Well not exactly all of them, but two. For sure I know where two are,” she said, stumbling over her words, “Unless they fled London again, just like they did when Oscar was being prosecuted.” The look Dean gave her showed that he didn’t gather what they were saying. “Oscar Wilde, he was being prosecuted for homosexual acts and sodomy.”

The words came together in his mind and Dean’s eyebrows rose, finding humor that Molly obviously didn’t see. “So you’re telling me that they fled the country because they’re gay, not to mention that they’re brothers?” He snorted, raking his fingers through his short hair. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Sam shot him a bitch face that Molly didn’t catch.

“They’ve been together for centuries -- since they were created -- and it’s lucky that they got out while they could, in either situation,” her voice was growing shrill, “I’m sure you’d rather not have war and famine all over the planet with no safety,” she uncharacteristically snapped, defending them to the end. She always would since they were the only sane family she had left.

“We didn’t mean any harm,” Sam patiently said, putting a hand up in a sign of surrender. “Dean, you didn’t mean any harm by saying that, did you?” Tensely, he turned his head to look at his big brother, every inch of his body screaming that if he didn’t say exactly what Sam had prompted, there would be consequences.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for bringing up that your ‘brothers’ sleep together from time to time. Happy, Sammy?”

Molly knew that she was lucky getting this kind of treatment. The three of them easily could have found something strong enough to hold her back -- especially with an angel on their side -- to get her to talk about whatever they wanted to. “I-it’s okay, Sam. I don’t mind it. But they might have fled. They’re very good at leaving no traces to where they went. It took years for me to locate them the last time so they would know it was safe to come out of hiding.”

Dean cursed and looked over at Castiel. “Is there any way you could search for them with those angel powers you have? Could be helpful, Cas.”

The angel glanced over to Molly then to Dean again. He had habit of staring at him, Molly picked up. “I could, but I’m not sure how much good that would do, Dean.”

“What do you mean by that,” Sam asked curiously, his brow furrowing at that new thought. The angel might not have all the powers they thought he had. Deep down Molly felt joy seeping out from Pestilence; it was pleased with how this had unfolded. And Molly couldn’t help but deny that she felt happy as well. Her brothers had a chance to run even if she had gotten captured. Nervously, she began twisting the plain, silver band on her finger.

“Cas,” Dean snapped, “What do you mean?”

This time Castiel opened his mouth to speak -- Sam shifted uncomfortably, blinking and running his tongue around his mouth, unhappy that his request was ignored. “You see, Pestilence -- Molly -- knew we had come to London even before we found her. There’s a chance that they could sense us like it did tonight. And tapping into my powers would only alert them to our presence further. That’s why we might not be able to track them down fully.”

“Is that true,” Dean shouted, pointing a finger at Molly. “Can you and your brothers sense that we’re here? Because that would bereally helpful to know about since you’re so keen on helping us.” Sam stood up after the final and forceful words left his brother. Curiously, she watched as Sam placed a hand on Dean’s body to calm him down. Molly knew that wasn’t a brotherly way at all; it was a familiar, loving touch to the side of Dean’s neck. Whispered words passed between them.

“It’s not a she,” Dean hissed. Molly ducked her head down. No. She wasn’t a ‘she’ to them and she never would be.

“But there’s a young woman living inside the body,” Sam countered, “And a girl who seems alive and well. Not a scratch on the body. That probably means its well taken care of.” He removed his hand from Dean to turn towards her. “The girl you took, what’s her name?”

“Molly Hooper. I took her soon after she got out of secondary school. I helped her get a job with my knowledge of disease. She had wanted to be a pathologist since she was younger, but she didn’t think she had the capability. So, I helped her get in by showing she could do it with my help. Diseases are my specialties.” She glanced over at Dean. Her host’s fear manifested and broke through, causing the hands to tremble uncontrollably as they wrung together.

“She let you?” Sam asked.

“Yes. I adopted her personality; kept her in contact with her friends and family thanks to the memories I have access to. She has regular contact with her parents. I keep her healthy; regular doctor visits and healthy f-food.” Her cheeks colored when she stuttered.

“Dean, see? It’s not like the others. The girl in there still is person.” Sam looked over at Molly again as she sat there, her eyes wide and roving around the room to keep a watch on all of them since that was all she could do. “Just calm down some and trust a bit.”

“That’s what you said about Ruby and look where it got us. We should just gank her and take that ring.” Brandishing a knife that made her cower -- that knife would kill the both of them, Pestilence and Molly -- Dean pointed it at her. “It would make the process ten times easier.”

“I-I can te-ll you where they are,” she pleaded, searching for a kind soul to save her. “At least Sherlock and John! I-I know where they live.”

Dean lowered the knife slightly as he advanced towards her. Then the tip of it came to rest against her covered chest, dangerously close to her pounding heart. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I don’t want this t-to happen. Lucifer will make us do this or try to find someone else to. I don’t want anyone to die. I just want him gone. I’ll help you no matter what. You’ll have my ring when you need it. And I can help you find the others.”

That was all she was good for. Once they had what they wanted, they could strip her of her powers completely -- which would be bliss -- or kill her with the knife pressing into her skin. Dean could even forego all the problems that came with her by killing her at the moment. Her knuckles went white from how tightly she gripped her hands together.

“Fine,” Dean growled, spinning the knife around by the handle so the tip pointed towards himself. Part of her shirt ripped as he pulled away the blade. God, was she grateful that wasn’t her skin. Sam took the knife away with an annoyed sigh while Castiel moved forward to see if she was completely okay. “Well, if we’re going to find them, we need to watch their place to see any coming and going. Molly, you’re with us. Cas... you hold down the fort. Call Bobby to tell him we’ve already found one.”

“But there is no fort,” Castiel started before getting cut off by the door closing after the three left, Dean gripping Molly’s arm tight enough to leave welts.

Without the Impala -- they were famous for it. Even Molly had heard about it through the grapevine -- they had gotten a boring rental car. Molly directed them until they arrived at 221B Baker Street. Lights were on. Were they really still there? She had been positive they would have stuck to the plan since Sherlock had been the mastermind of it. She gave herself over while they figured out if there was another way. The idiots. Again, her hands twisted in her lap.

“Would there be anywhere else they’d be,” Sam asked, kindness exhuming from him. She shook her head. “What about anyone else in the flat that would keep the lights on?”

“Well, there’s Mrs. Hudson, their landlady. B-but she knows nothing and wouldn’t be a threat. Human, completely so. She’s a wonder--”

“But would it be any help for us to take her?”

“Dean,” Sam snapped, the disgust showing in his voice. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“Yes she does. She’s their landlady. That’s enough.”

The brothers stared at each other for a long moment all over again, arguing silently about this plea. Molly was appalled. A single text to them could do something, but barely anything. Depending on how far away they were, it didn’t matter how fast they could get to Baker Street.

The tense silence was interrupted by Dean’s mobile going off, filling the car with some rock’n’roll song that she wasn’t familiar with. They all sounded the same to her. He sighed, answering it. “What is it Cas? Does Bobby have something to say that you need to tell us?”

“I’m very sorry, but ‘Cas’ is a bit tied up now,” a voice purred from the other side. “He can’t come to the phone to talk to you. This is Famine, as I’m sure you know me.” Molly could hear Sherlock’s voice even better when they were put on speakerphone.

“You let him go,” Dean growled.

“No, I don’t think we will. I know you have something that belongs to me and I happen to want her back. Right now we need to stick together as a family because of the cage you opened up.”

“We’re at your hotel waiting,” another voice joined in that she recognized as John’s. “We’ll make an exchange after we have a chat about what’s going to happen from now on.”

Then they hung up with a click. Dean slammed his hands down on the steering wheel angrily and glanced over at Sam. “I told you these damn demons can’t be trusted! We have to make the deal better, don’t you see?”

Sam shook his head while he looked back at Molly. “You’re on your own, Dean. If you want to take that landlady, you’re doing it by yourself.”

Molly paled. “No! All they want is me, not her. J-just take us back and they’ll let him go. I promise that they will. Leave her alone!”

It was too late. Dean was getting out of the car, and out of desperation for the kind woman inside; Molly got out after him to lunge and grab his arm to tug him back. He easily shook her off, ignoring her pleas. By that time, Sam was out of the far. His jaw was set, nostrils flared, and eyes wide. No one was even around given the time of day. No one to see Dean break down the door or hear Mrs. Hudson screams for Sherlock as she struggled all the way to the car. No one to see Molly stood crying as she realized people were going to get hurt no matter what, as Sam took her stiffly to the car so they could leave before anyone noticed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to help [this lovely person](http://startrekkingthrough221b.tumblr.com/) for helping with this chapter!

“They got you too?”

Molly turned her head to meet Mrs. Hudson’s sad eyes that focused right on her. “Don’t worry, they’re just children, they’ll let us go,”the elderly woman whispered reassuringly and patted her hand. But Molly wasn’t too sure about that. Sam and Dean Winchester were killers and they would do what they had to. No matter what, she knew that they were the demons of the hunting world.

The reputations they had with the dead littered behind them -- innocents, demons, other creatures, and other hunters -- made them dangerous even to their own kind. Molly took Mrs. Hudson’s hand lightly, but didn’t say what they’d do what they had to their captives and Sherlock.

Why did Sherlock have to capture that angel? It made no sense to her. The game had really begun and this was the first battle on their territory. Molly looked out the window at the hotel. Everything seemed normal; no cars outside, no extra people milling around. A mainly quiet evening in London.

“Get the knife, Sammy. You never know what might happen,”Dean gruffly said, parking the car in the alleyway. Sam gave a nod for his answer and opened his door. The trunk popped open and there was a bit of rustling around before their doors were opened. Dean grabbed Molly and Sam gently helped Mrs. Hudson out of the car. Moly was pushed towards the front, feeling a gun pointed towards her back.

“Let her go,” she heard Mrs. Hudson hoarsely cry from behind. “Take me.”

“Lady, you really have no idea what she can do,” Dean said with a wry chuckle, earning a glare from Mrs. Hudson. When Dean turned his head to Molly, he was greeted with a blank look. “How do you even come close to hiding all this? I don’t understand how you even approached it.”

No answer. Right now it was best to keep her mouth shut about any of this. Pestilence’s urge was taking over, the urge to run and protect herself despite the danger of it. All these people could die if she just could open her mind enough to project it out.

Boils would cover the hunters that would feel like fire all over their bodies. The boils were burst with a pus that would stink like rotting flesh. A rash would go over that with a fever that would do nothing but make them delirious. They would die slowly by her hands. She would watch them convulse on the floor in their death throes.

Inside her, the girl trembled from fear of the power Pestilence had. She could sense the all too human urge that the girl had to rip the ring off and hand it over to the hunters. I won’t do it, Pestilence told the girl, we’re too closely combined. I would feel the grief you felt no matter if I tried to block it out.

That’s what it boiled down to. Unlike Famine and War -- she wasn’t sure of Death’s relationship with his vessel -- she had grown close to the real Molly and gotten to the point of almost friendship with her. She knew Famine had cut his vessel’s thoughts out of the way completely, ending up with a new identity altogether. War gave his barely any influence.

Dean pulled her towards the room. Lock was broken and the door was slightly ajar. She was pushed in first, clearly a new way to test if the area was safe or dangerous. The first thing she saw was a ring of fire surrounding the angel. He stood in the center, not saying or doing anything. Sherlock stood behind the ring while John was more to the front, holding something that glinted silver in the light from the flames.

“Cas,” Dean said once he walked in behind Molly, holding what felt like the muzzle of a gun to her back. “What the hell?”

Sherlock laughed darkly. “Oh, you don’t know? I’m surprised your angel hasn’t told you about this stuff. Quite potent for angels. I’ll go ahead since I’m the one in charge here.” He paused for a second. “Bring in Mrs. Hudson. If you harmed her in any way, I’ll kill your angel right here,” he growled.

Sam stepped inside a few moments later, not holding a gun to the elderly woman’s back, but guiding her in with a hand on her shoulder and the other up in a sign of surrender. “Sherlock,” she cried out, jolting forward, “What have you gotten yourself into this time?” Relief tinged her voice to see him here, already coming to take care of her.

“I told you we should have taken her to a safe place,” John muttered, clenching his weapon tightly before letting his hand go slack again.

“We’ll get her back, a hostage for a hostage. But, going on, we have things that could kill Castiel right here. What surrounds him is Holy Fire. It contains him right where we want him and if he steps into it, he’ll end up needing a new vessel. War has an Angel Sword, as you already know. Such an easy way to kill him and Jimmy Novak. And some people think angels are invincible.” Sherlock smirked.

“But,” he continued, “Hand Mrs. Hudson to us, and you’ll get back your angel. We also want to let you know that we want _nothing_ to do with this. You want our rings, and we have no plans of giving them to you. Is that understood?” An eyebrow arched up to make sure he exactly was going to be understood. John made a gesture with the sword a moment later to prompt them into answering.

“We get it. Now let him out,” Sam snapped.

It was clear to Molly that they hadn’t thought this out beyond talking to them. Mrs. Hudson moved herself out of Sam’s grasp to ask,“What about Molly?”

“No, she came here of her own accord,” Sherlock murmured in a deadly voice. “We’re only here to get back you and tell them our message.”

Hurt spread across Mrs. Hudson’s face. It wrinkled her brow and tinged her eyes with sadness. “Molly,” she asked in a small voice, “Is it true? You came to them?”

“I-I didn’t know this would happen,” she stuttered out, twisting her silver ring as she looked at the devastated woman. “It’s too hard to explain.” She watched as Sherlock inched over to Mrs. Hudson to pull her over to their side of the room. Molly fidgeted in the middle, watching the whole scene.

“Now give back Cas,” Dean demanded. John had worked on putting out the Holy Fire so the angel was free in the meantime. Immediately the sword was pressed to the vulnerable skin of his neck.

“Where did you get this,” Castiel asked.

“He knows people who secured us with these things. You don’t need to know the details of it,” John whispered back, walking him forward with a nudge to the angel’s foot. “We have no plans of using them against you unless we have to.”

The pass was easy and Dean immediately started looking over Castiel to make sure he actually was unharmed. Sherlock motioned with his head to get John leaving as well, but Sam moved block the door. “I think we have some things we need to talk about.”

XXX

“He’s going to be here soon, Sebby.” The excitement showed in Death’s eyes brightly as he looked at his tiger. “I have something planned that will make him happy. We’ll be put in his good graces at once. I know it.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will,” Moran murmured.

Sebastian was more worried about it than Jim was, that was for sure. Lucifer was the King of Hell, now that he was back and Lilith was gone, that Crowley would get kicked out of his newfound position. But, he still was more worried about all these changes. Something would happen soon because of them.

Jim craned his head to get a good look around the area. Desolate as he liked it. Perfect for meeting the most important fallen angel. Since they were still in the city there was a constant buzz of noise, but anyone who came near moved quickly away with a natural gut feeling from the look of them, especially Moran with the scars dotting his face..

An elegant woman was walking up, toying with the mobile in her hand. She stopped in front of them and Moran could clearly see the slim fitting dress with a small jacket that stopped just under her breasts. With her so close, he could tell just how white the dress was. Her dark hair was put up in a twisted bun, held up with some kind of clip women used. Very stylish. Sebastian was looking her up and down appreciatively.

“All these people, so annoying,” she said, not glancing up from her mobile. The intonation of those words told him she was bored, very bored. “At least most of them won’t be here for much longer. So long as I have your help. I happen to like being the dominant one, not these things. God never should have created them.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows rose. The woman sighed, finally looking up as she lifted her hand to touch the dark hair that was piled up on top of her head. “You don’t recognize me. All those years of being kept in that cage has made me unrecognizable to you. Such a shame. Usually I don’t choose a woman, but she’s irresistible. Wanted by a few countries and caused some scandals between politicians. Remarkable, don’t you think? Looking through her contacts proves she’s a powerful woman. Only thing she didn’t know when she accepted me was that I’ll take away her pretty looks, I’ll flay her skin.”

Halfway through her speech, Jim lurched forward and took her hand gently. “Lucifer, I am so --”

She snatched her hand away and absently inspected her nails. “Call me Irene. I have people who will help with our plight to exactly locate the Winchesters. Stop your groveling, it makes you look pathetic.” He hung on her every word still.

“Try not to kill anyone important,” Irene carried on.“They’re here and we’re not looking to harm either of them. It’s no secret to me that they’re trying to get your rings. Pestilence has softened, War and Famine don’t want me back, but they have no intention to assist them. That leaves _you_ as my last hope, unfortunately. Keep an eye on them, but use one of your men. I know you have many as the person you’ve created for yourself. I expect nothing less than success in this.”

“And you’ll have it,” Jim said quickly. “Sebastian and I will make sure you’ll end victorious using whatever means necessary.”

“Just don’t injure the vessels. My brother and I will need them when the time comes for our final flight.”


	4. Sorry

I won't be continuing this fanfiction. You can do what you want with that.


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